An Invasion by Sunset
by AncalagonTheBlack42
Summary: It is the first few days of 289AC, and Robert Baratheon sits the Iron throne, having overthrown the Targaryens. Yet threats to his rule emerge, as many still name him 'usurper', and the Seven Kingdoms are left weakened by civil war. However, another threat that noone, not even the greatest schemers could anticipate has reared it's head. A rival from across the Sunset Sea.
1. Ygon

Ygon

The day was young so far, and Ygon was already out in the courtyard doing some training, or observing more accurately. Father rarely reaved as the other Ironborn lords did, instead preferring to fish and fend off pirate attacks. Lonely Light certainly lived up to its namesake. Ygon didn't share his father's isolationism or concern for the west, and instead watched two reavers practise their shield formation. Aron and Dagmar were at it again. He felt a thump on his back.

"Brother!" Gyles called out. His big brother in both age and girth, and heir to the island clearly wanted to oversea the training too. "Father's wishing you to come speak in the tower. Yohn too apparently, if you can find him." Ygon took that as a sign, and went looking for Yohn.

"Shield up a bit, Dagmar!" He called out as the youth failed to raise his shield on time. "If you were out reaving the Summer Isles, you'd be half full of arrows by now!"

"Ye thanks, milord!" He replied as Aron launched his longaxe at the shield. Now he raised it.

Ygon didn't need to guess where Yohn would be again. He went through the castle's outer wall towards the beachhead. Even far out, it didn't take long to find his brother out with an empty jug of mead next to him. As he approached, he saw what was going on. His eyes were closed, but Ygon knew what colour they would be.

"Brother! Brother!" He shook his shoulder, and to no surprise, Yohn's eyes opened as pure white for a split second, before switching back to their normal grey. He shuddered and coughed as he came back to consciousness.

"Ah...ah! I see em! I see ships!" He gasped and reached in vain for the jug. "Not like ours, a queer shape, and many of them!" _By the Drowned God, _Ygon thought.

"How much have you drank this time? You know you shouldn't drink when you go into Nipper!" Nipper was the name of the spotted whale Yohn had bonded with, with a single upturned tooth that stuck out of its mouth. He had to speak quietly, not in case of his men, but in case islanders from east heard what was being said. "And what's all this talk about ships?"

"I saw them, it's true!" His little brother exclaimed. "I swear by the drowned god himself!"

"I'd dare not invoke his wrath if I were you!" Drowned Priest Orrigan came by, a long bearded fellow who neared seventy, old even by the standards of the priests. "Be careful he doesn't trap your soul in that whale, and you lose it to that beast, never feasting in those beautiful halls below." Yohn felt scared somehow, sweat coming down his face in a way Ygon hadn't seen since they'd lost their sister to shivers. "Out with it!"

"Priest, I see a great fleet coming east, to meet us." Ygon was fed up with this nonsense, but his attempt to drag his drunken brother up was unsuccessful. "They came from a route even Elissa Farman never knew of!"

The priest shook his head. "That's impossible. Centuries, millennia even of navigation by Ironborn have never made contact with some other men of the sunset lands. Why now?"

Ygon was red in the face. This was tragic. "Worry not, priest, I will take my brother to be disciplined with father!"

"As you wish, my Lord," Orrigan said as he went on. Ygon carried Yohn with his underarm, pulling and holding him up.

It took some time for them to walk up the steps of the tower up to Father's quarters. He was with Gyles and a couple of salt wives and what appeared to be his half brother. Ygon guessed it was some dispute.

"Leave, both of you." Their father said as he noticed Ygon and Yohn enter. Only the brothers and father remained now. "Do you know of why you're here?"

Yohn was shaking now, and Ygon confused. "Another raiding party, I presume? Lord Greyjoy promises we can go to Slaver's Bay once his plan is in motion."

Gyles, the heir apparent offered his proposal. "Mayhaps we need to increase our whaling stock? The Ibbenese are visiting less frequently now, and our own have gone down in number." He knew logistics better than his brothers, but it seemed Father shook his head at either.

"I...Ive heard stories. Of west." Yohn really shook now. Three of my westernmost fishing boats were supposedly lost to a ship unlike any we've seen before. Only a single sailor managed to come ashore to tell me."

"I was right!" Yohn cried out! "They're coming." Ygon decided to let him go, where he fell to his knees. _Mad, he is. _

"Enough." Lord Farwynd interrupted before insults could be exchanged. "Whatever your brother saw in his...gift only strengthens what that sailor saw. I do not think him mad, for while he was shook, it seems he could describe quite rigorously who came for his ship. Their outfits, their tongue, even the beasts they had transported were all queer indeed. I can't think of anywhere in Essos or the south that is even close to them, bar mayhaps the Summer Islanders."

"Well, father," Gyles began. "What can our brother say?" He turned to Yohn, who was annoyed about Ygon being so careless.

"I was only as a whale, brother. I saw almost nothing of those men, bar one who looked over the side. It seemed as though his hair stood up like a plant and was all sorts of colours! But I could only see through Nipper's watery eyes, not my own." He sulked.

Father paused for a couple of moments. "What you said has consistency with what the sailor said, for he-" before Father could continue, the maester and two guards barged through. "How dare you interrupt your lord!"

Maester Arwylle was stuttering again. "My-My L-lord, we've spotted s-sh-sh-ships near doc-doc-d-dock! I-i-i-i-"

The guard to his left interrupted. "Milord, he's not mad, there are strange ships in our waters, and they're attacking our own! There's at least a dozen warships and four cargo ships as I saw, and there may be more that we don't know about!" _What? _

Ygon was astonished. "Is this some cruel jape?" He drew his axe, enraged that they would dare organise such a thing. His brother was half-mad, and a sailor fully mad, and now they were expected to believe that all of a sudden, the lands to the west were to reveal themselves? Preposterous! He walked forward. "If this is one of Dagmar's pranks, I will have his shit-filled head for-"

"Sheath yourself, son!" the Lord of Lonely Light spoke with a tone of iron as sharp as any blade. A horn was heard in the distance. The horn for battle!

"This is unpresidented, father!" Gyles exclaimed. "How could we not have known this?" He let the soldiers go past into the courtyard to mobilise the soldiers. _Why, you fool_, Ygon thought. How could any of this nonsense be even contemplated as truth?

Father looked down, ashamed. "It is not so." He got closer to his sons, including Yohn, who stood up once more. He spoke as little more than a whisper. "I should have listened to their envoys."

Ygon flew into rage. "You speak of madness, father! You mean that not only are the lands west of Westeros true, but they sent envoys? How could you not have informed us? Everyone else too!" Nothing in the Iron Islands' entire history could be compared to this. The Deep Ones who serve the Drowned God surely knew of such people, but they were not mortal men, and would never give such secrets away willingly. He felt betrayed. Had he and the people of Lonely Light been lied to all this time?

"When I was a boy, my own father and your nuncle Naeron came across a ship while sailing, full of strange gifts. Flowers of all shapes and colours, fruits unlike any we'd seen before, many dragonglass blades, the pelt of a great bear or pig of some kind, and this sweet drink to which we had no comparison!" He paused. "Their leader wore a crown of white and green feathers five feet long, and armour of leather and dragonglass scales. He had the gift too, for he walked alongside a huge long-legged crocodile, as tall as a draft horse and much longer. We knew not a word of one another's languages, but I could tell they wanted gifts in exchange for something. My father hoped to offer gold and silver in exchange, but my uncle Naeron spilled his drink. The newcomers took offense to this, as if they'd had their son killed in front of them, and left in disgust. We kept none of their gifts. I wonder why their commander didn't set his beast upon us that day." This was all too much to take in at once! He might as well have told of the rise of Valyria once more, or the Targaryen exiles hatching a dragon!

"How could you not have told us, father?" Gyles was more hurt than angry. "We could have prepared, warned Pyke. Warned the Iron Throne! Now we are lost!"

_Boom! _

They felt a shaking as some projectile landed in the courtyard. The attack was already starting. The men were panicking and getting to their station.

Father drew his axe. "We're not lost, son. We've found our purpose. Tonight, we will dine in the halls of the Drowned God!" Now all three brothers drew their swords and went out into the courtyard to face the enemy.

There was rubble in the middle, as the enemy had launched some flammable substance at them from a siege weapon abroad one of the ships. The men who hadn't been killed or injured already started to pour outside the walls to defend against the attackers. Ygon and Gyles ran across the side of the walls as they saw what was coming. The ships were quicker than they could ever have imagined!

The first ship made beachhead. It was a mighty vessel, vaguely resembling the Ironborn's own, but made of a strange wood, and with two heads on each end. One of a wolf of some sort, and the other of something Ygon did not know. Out of the ship poured the strangest fighters he had ever seen. With hide spherical shields and dragonglass clubs, maces, axes and spears, they came out in droves, battling the Westerosi. Their armour was what appeared to be bronze, inferior to steel plate but nevertheless superior to the leather Father had mentioned. They fought fiercely too, and like the Ironborn, they did not fear death. Their skin was red with white and blue markings, their lips pierced and chin forked. They were a new people indeed! Ygon reached for a small scorpion to fire upon the invaders, and chose a target. Aron was fighting a huge warrior, over seven feet tall and covered in bronze armour that looked strangely like those of the Ghiscari, yet with a helmet that resembled those of the Northerners, bar the black feathers on top. This hulk of a man was getting the better of his warrior, so Ygon fired. This one missed, and he went down to reload. Gyles got on his own turret and began to fire at the invaders alongside the archers. Men began to pour burning sand and boiling water upon the invaders, driving them off. Ygon fired again, and this time, hit the giant of a man straight in the neck, nearly decapitating him. He waved at Aron, but Aron was only able to smile for a short while before turning to shock, as a wolf pounced from the ship at Dagmar and tore him asunder. But it wasn't really a wolf, for its head was much larger compared to its body, and its proportions were alien. It was as large as a lion in fact, with a head more than twice as large! It too wore some leather armour over it to protect from arrows. Ygon only felt worse as five more of the beasts lept at the Ironborn and savaged at any who got too close. Aron managed to bury his axe in one of them before fending off another with a shield.

A squadron of Ironborn tried to board another ship that had come ashore, but they were bowled out of the way by a big shape that Ygon couldn't even see, obscured by the battle. All he knew was that it was hairy and had a mounted archer on it. He aimed the scorpion to fire.

A heat caught to him, and he felt like he was flying. Bits of rock and dust peppered him as he fell to the ground with a sickening crunch.

_"Aaaaaaaagghhh!" _

His arm was broken, that was what he could tell even before he opened his eyes again. He tried to get back up, but his body was weak. Dust was all around him, and it was hard to see besides rubble and dead bodies, many Ironborn and a few of the attackers too. What had they done?

Out of the fog came more of the attackers with bows and arrows, as well as crossbows and spears. Instead of pouncing upon him there and then, they parted to his left and right. Another figure appeared, obscured by the fog of soot and dust.

A strange tongue was spoke by the man as the soldiers lowered their weapons. This man was uncanny in his appearance. His hair was black as soot and went down to his shoulders, while he was clean shaven bar a moustache that went all the way down to his flat stomach. The man's eyes were as red as rubies, as if full of blood rather than water. His chisseled jaw was decorated with rings and crystals of multiple types; emerald, sapphire, dragonglass and ruby. Even while nearly fifty years old, the man was in good fighting shape. His mouth was small and his nose large and like an eagle's beak. He held in his right hand a great bronze warhammer, its head shaped like a beak to bite into armour, and amethysts encrusted into its eyes. He wore steel plate, far beyond any of the others in quality, and his armour had what appeared to be a great bird etched into it. But there was the faintest hint of another etching beneath it, something that resembled a head... He also wore a dark blue cloak over it all. Behind him was another shape, long and snarling.

The man bent over Ygon, who writhed in pain. The man spoke some words in his native tongue, clearly of contempt. Then, to Ygon's astonishment, he spoke a few words of the common tongue.

"Your men...die well. With big courage." It was broken, but it was the common tongue nevertheless! How many Westerosi had found themselves wherever these invaders came from over the centuries, Ygon wondered. His father had told him the New World would bring new chances to the Ironborn, not dread like this. "You should have accepted our friendship." He said plainly. He turned around, toward the shadow.

The great mass appeared as a scaly snout, gnarly and with teeth protruding out. As it came closer, the true size of the scaly monster became apparent. It must have been at least six feet tall at the shoulder, if not more, and more than twenty feet long with its long tail behind it. What concerned him most however was the jaws, with teeth like blades pointing downwards, ready to strike. Along its back were scutes from the neck down to the tail. It was the long legged crocodile Father had mentioned!

Feeling the piss leave his body, Ygon knew his time was numbered. He looked towards the mysterious commander, for some plea of mercy he knew wasn't coming. The commander smiled ever so slightly, and said '_Myurbakar'_, and the beast approached, hissing and opening its jaws.  
Just as it pounced and began to tear into him, Ygon noticed that the old etching in the commander's armour was a wolf. A dire wolf. That armour had once belonged to the Starks! As he died in agony, Ygon felt the most bitter irony.


	2. Neshtaka

The emperor would be pleased with him as of this day. Of his first force of fifteen warships, it had only taken three to take the so called 'Ironborn' by storm on the island. The greatbows has fired great explosives into the walls of the fortress and broken through, just as he planned. The large crossbows on the walls had not been foreseen though, and they had taken the lives of not only several men and lockjaws, but poor Dezoma, one of his favourite fighters. He may have lost his beloved were it not for the explosive.

Two of the owner's sons were dead now, as one died in the explosion and the other was devoured by Sunbite. The lord of the 'castle' himself had taken his guards and fought valiantly against Neshtaka's forces. The two fought personally before Neshtaka triumphed, knocking him down. Now he and his remaining son were tied up before him. A lockjaw snarled at the son, who whimpered. This was certainly a catch.

Before he'd been sent east, the ministry insisted he learn some of the 'Common Tongue' of the easterners as they'd acquired from occasional contacts over the years. Neshtaka himself was of the 'wolfsblood', and so he had acquired the Gift from those ancient people. Perhaps these people knew more about them?

"Do you know of...the wolfmen?" He spoke in the tongue these 'Westerosi' spoke with. They were clearly surprised he could speak some of their own.

"Uh, wolfmen?" They seemed confused. The lord stood up in his cage, but one of the lockjaws growled and he went down again. "Ah! The Starks! Yes, they rule the North. You know of them how?"

Neshtaka squinted in. "A thousand years ago, Stark led the wolfmen from across the sea. Some settled with us willingly, but others were harsher, tried to enslave us, losing all civilisation. In the end, the Wolfmen lost, but some of them continued in us."

He now turned to the son. "You can see, can't you?" He bent down. "From the beasts. I know look in your eyes." Neshtaka remembered when he was a young man and his wife and young son called out to protect them from a bronze scaled monster with golden eyes. The beast was much larger than any lockjaw, and had scales instead of fur. He found the gift in himself and calmed the beast before it could kill. More than that, his mind became one with it. Now he and Sunbite were as inseparable as mother and child.

The young man nodded. "Y-yes. I see through the eyes of a spotted whale!" Neshtaka didn't know what creature he spoke of. "They're fast, clever things in the sea, covered in spots. Not dangerous to us but are to everything else."

"Aah." Neshtaka said. "That is your word for them. Whale. I like it!" He turned around, and Sunbite, having finished his meal came forward, his mouth still bloody. "You are my first conquests of Westeros proper, and I wish know more about lands east. This was but a sample of what is to come." The lord and son began to weep as they saw the blood on Sunbite's mouth. Neshtaka understood, for the lord had lost his son. He had almost lost his own once, but his was a little boy, innocent of the world, while Farwynd's sons had chosen to fight to the end.

"You are Farwynd, are you?" Neshtaka asked in the common tongue.

"Y-yes." The older man came out. "Lord Farwynd of Lonely Light, serving the rightful king of the Ironborn, Balon Greyjoy! Not Baratheon on his Iron Throne, and certainly not you!" He continued to weep after this. It seemed that to the east, his ruler wished to rule independently of the so called 'Iron Throne'. Perhaps this was an empire to rival Chiqotex, or just one of many tribes.

Neshtaka looked to the side. The pyre was almost ready. The locals who died in battle had their hearts cut out and placed on a great alter, a bowl even. Neshtaka knew not the ways of the priesthood, for he did not concern himself with spiritual matters. Indeed, they shunned him for the 'Gift', bought by those who had come to Brantazem and slaughtered their ancestors and forced themselves on the land. He knew they saw him and his cousin as an abomination, but they could not touch him, for his cousin was the empress, and her son heir to all of Choqitex.

"How many days east till we reach the other islands?" It had taken months for the ships to sail all the way here even in optimal conditions, and there had been losses no doubt. He wanted to make sure that less would perish before they even got the chance to rule.

The boy who's name he thought was Yohn spoke. "It is eight days to the south-east for Great Wyk. I don't know if you have the ships to take them, but after that, you have Fair Isle, and Seagard on the mainland, and-"

"I see," Neshtaka noted. "This fleet indeed heads straight east, but the other, larger fleet took a more southern route. I only presume they are going directly to the mainland?" He crouched down, and this time, the father spoke.

"So your larger fleet goes for the Reach and Arbor? They are far larger and richer than these islands would ever be. Vast fields, strong vines, hot enough weather for your plants to grow. Why not attack them first and foremost?"

Neshtaka laughed. "We are, even if not knowingly. I am leading this fleet for now, because it is the furthest west of your lands. My blood contains the blood of the Wolf, and I wish to journey to where they first came from, even if I die trying.

"Your sons didn't die cowering behind trees, if it is any comfort." Truth be told, there were hardly any trees here anyway. "They earned a warrior's death, and so regardless of their lack of faith, their hearts will be judged fairly by Lord Sharoq in the next life."

The son protested now. "They were not godless men, heathen! They died for the Drowned God, and for the Ironborn people! You would not deserve such things, only far worse!"

This Neshtaka took offence to. "I've captured your men in ships, interrogated soldiers and sailors for years left to sea. We burn the hearts of those who fought against us valiantly so they find redemption in the next world. Cowards are gutted alive so their blood feeds the land, so at least the earth may gain something from them." He sighed. "But we take those who have fought and been bested. You drown your defenceless captives and innocents who had no chance against you, no respect for your enemy! You steal women from their husbands who still live and make them your property. You loot and rape and pillage even when you have every chance to grow your own food, or trade with your neighbours. You have no right to lecture us on morality!"

One of the Plains-riders' commanders, Flying-Crusher came to speak. "Admiral, the others have been tied up, and we have occupied the island's ships. Shall we sail east to Great Wyk immediately?" He was a shorter man, but broad-shouldered and very muscled, just like the namesake beast that swept in the Empire's northern borders, covered in red tattoos. "I await the next journey."

"Not quite yet, rider. The lord and his son need to take part next." Neshtaka turned back to Farwynd. "Well, it seems we have more use of you before we visit the east." He turned to the guards. "Open the cage." They did as told and escorted the prisoners out. Neshtaka wanted to teach the heathens something before they would be sent their separate ways. He knew in his heart that Lord Farwynd could not survive the day, but it would be dishonourable just to cut him down now. His son Yohn, who had the Gift, would be of use as a local ruler and tactician.

Taking them some distance to the old bay, Neshtaka put the two in front of a small army and a crusher, serving as heavy guard. They were afraid of it, almost as much as of Sunbite. He knew what was custom for those that surrendered.

"Yohn Farwynd, you from this day shall rule this island and it's neighbours, and your gift will be put to use," he proclaimed. His own men cheered, but the surviving Ironborn protested. The current lord looked up, accepting of his fate. "As for you, Lord Gylbert, you have a choice. Death by your own blade, death by combat or serve as our envoy for life. It's your decision now."

After what felt like half an age of pondering, Gylbert finally accepted his fate. "I...I will be your envoy to Westeros."


	3. Jaime

After breaking fast, Jaime headed out to his duties. The new king had been a great warrior just a few years ago, slaying Prince Rhaegar on the Trident and usurping Aerys Targaryen. Now, deprived of his northern whore, he had let himself go to drinking and whoring, leaving the small council and the Hand to run the realm in truth. _The King eats and the Hand wipes the shit indeed, _he thought. Jaime sometimes wished it was Rhaegar who had taken the Trident, and to whom he should be guarding.

At least he got to see Cersei often. Joffrey's parentage was passed off successfully, and his sweet sister hoped to try again at some point, while Robert was recovering from his many parties. Jaime wasn't quite ready yet. Joffrey was nothing more to him than spilled seed, but one day he would sit the Iron Throne, and that was important. But for now, he needed to guard the man who did sit the throne.

As he walked down the corridor, he found himself joined by Ser Boros Blount, the fat oaf, and Ser Steffon Oakheart, whose cousin hoped to join someday. The three of them were a while off from Robert, so idle talk was necessary.

"So..." Jaime started. "How were both of your evenings? I trust your sleep wasn't too bad?" Moore and Trent had guarded the king outside his bedroom through the night, so Jaime would take the morning and afternoon shift.

"Well," Ser Boros started, "-it wasn't so bad actually. Slept right through. Tiredness of the job, I suppose." Lucky for him. He'd tried going to Cersei to 'relieve' himself, but she was occupied with the King. "And yours, ser Jaime?"

"Quite uneventful, I must say." He turned disinterestedly to Ser Steffon. "And you?"

Steffon had a slight look of distress across his sullen face and brown eyes. "I had a foul dream last night. I dreamt of strange ships, and monsters, and that we were fighting on a field somewhere. Rivers all around!"

Jaime was confused. "You mean the Trident? I don't remember you saying you were there, nor do I remember ships being involved anywhere." They were nearly at the end of the corridor. "I'm sure it is just one of those random dreams that goes nowhere, like wind. If there were any new people to be found in the world, they'd be east of Asshai, and they'd never be able to reach us!"

Boros chipped in. "That's a better way to think, Ser Jaime!" Truth be told, Jaime found him obnoxious at the best of times. While a few days shy of two-and-twenty, Jaime had seen enough of his fellow Kingsguard to drive a man to madness. _Who would have thought guarding the same man over and over for life would be so boring_, he thought. He supposed it was better than what Father had given little Tyrion back in Casterly Rock though.

Now they were at the end of the corridor. Two of the goldcloaks were on either side. They stepped aside when the son of Tywin Lannister came to them, and remained silent.

The small Council table only had Grand Maester Pycelle present. He hastily got up. "Oh..er..ser Jaime of course! Do be present, his Grace shan't be too long from his...occupations." The old fool was useful to House Lannister, for sure, but Jaime never figured out why Father put him to such use.

Now the other members of the small Council began to come in, bit by bit. First in was the king's younger brother, Stannis Baratheon, master of ships and Lord of Dragonstone. A man as hard as iron, as the siege of Storm's End had shown, and one who held little love for Jaime's family. His current face was no different. Next came in the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, the legendary Ser Barristan Selmy, who too seemed frustrated at something or another. He nodded to Jaime and sat down at the table. The Master of Laws sat down too, the one who Jaime could never remember the name of, some minor lord in the Stormlands somewhere. Finally, a young and scrawny looking man, who had an almost birdlike apperance to him came in, sitting in the vacant seat of the Master of Coin.

Jaime whispered to Boros as the others introduced themselves. "Who is the new Master of Coin? I don't think I've seen him before around here."

Boros whispered back after a moment's pause. "That is Petyr Baelish, from the Vale. The Hand insisted on bringing him down to the capital to serve the role. I've heard he is an expert at this sort of thing." This 'Petyr', looked around, smiling nervously. _Ah, he hasmuch to learn being thrust here, _Jaime thought. _I doubt he'll last more than a year or two at most. _

After some time, the two most important men in the Seven Kingdoms came in. At the front was the Hand of the King and Warden of the East, Lord Paramount Jon Arryn of the Vale. He was dressed in the fine blue and white of his family sigil, his overalls shaped as if from a falcon's wings. Behind him was the King himself, Robert Baratheon, first of his name, who had his normal look of dissatisfaction, walking alongside Jaime's own sweet sister, the queen, holding the crown prince in her arms. _My son, _he thought. She looked beautiful in the emerald green dress that fitted her busom and complimented the green in her eyes, _their eyes_ even. She shot him a look of acknowledgement back. Robert had stopped holding her hands into these meetings only a short while into the marriage, as it was clear to everyone this was not a marriage arranged in the Seven Heavens. Now they were all sat down at the table. All except the Master of Whispers, Varys.

"Get on with it." The king said dismissively. He had not been the same since he had taken the Iron throne. Gone was the clean, chiseled jaw of the Demon of the Trident, in place a thick beard to hide the growing fat there. He was still muscled greatly, hence how easily he could carry that great hammer, but he had not grown in a good way. He was no Aegon the Unworthy, but a few more years and he may become like that, the way things were going. Even in his better days, Jaime noticed there was some sadness in his eyes. Not that it was any matter to himself.

"Well," Arryn began. "We have a number of matters to discuss today." He opened some letters. "First things first, I have decided at the advice of my dear wife Lysa to appoint Petyr Baelish to the position of Master of Coin after the _accident _you may have heard about. I and Hoster Tully knew his father well, so I have faith that Littlefinger here shall do a fine job in his position." Robert nodded.

"The second is the matter of Spring. Pycelle has told me the Citadel thinks we are in for the longest summer in a many years now, so I believe it is paramount that we make use of it, for if the summer is long and plentiful, the winter will no doubt be harsh and unforgiving."

"There shouldn't be a huge issue with that," Littlefinger interjected. "The Tyrells will no doubt make use of the spare time to grow, as will Your Grace's youngest brother." He of course spoke of young Lord Renly Baratheon, who in his youth needed the council of Ser Cortnay Penrose till he came of age. "I presume Ser Jaime's father here can provide any gold the Crown needs should we not wish to spend our own resources."

"I doubt we would have need of that, Lord Petyr." Jaime said in kind.

"Regardless," Jon continued, "-chances like this do not come by often, so it is of paramount importance. Of lesser importance are things like the drains of King's Landing and the management of the brothels, for which his Grace-" Jaime could now definitely tell there had been some dispute away from prying eyes insists should continue operating. Cersei looked at the ceiling as this was mentioned and Stannis ground his teeth. Jaime had heard whispers of the Master of Ship's wedding night, as tragic as that was. Thinking of it almost made him snigger.

"However, before this meeting, I recieved a letter of significant importance from Lord Varys, who has gone to the Reach to investigate rumours." It was true the Tyrells had fought for the Mad King, and may want a chance at vengeance for their defeat at Storm's End. "Additionally, there has been disturbing reports from Pyke and Fair Isle of unusual goings on there."

Murmering throughout the Small Council began. Everyone from Cersei to Pycelle to Meryn Trant began offering insight and questions. Jaime was confused why all these reports were coming from the west coast.

"Enough!" The King spoke louder than all the others. "Lord Jon told me the messages from Pyke from Lord Balon. Greyjoy must think I'm some fool as mad as Aerys if I am to believe that his lands are being attacked by some raiders or monsters! Clearly it must be some sellswords or corsairs they managed to piss off on their raids!"

The Master of Laws spoke. "Your grace, we have not heard any rumblings of large scale Ironborn raids in recent years, and while Greyjoy has no love for us, would he really want to claim he is under attack of all things?"

Robert responded. "He thinks I'm weak. That we are weak after overthrowing the Targaryens, that I will sit down and let him mock me for a fool. Do any of you want to make that same claim now? The Greyjoys are being raided by vengeful corsairs, that is all! Unless they start raiding other lands of ours, it is no concern to us now."

Stannis spoke now, plainly. "Robert, there have been sightings of ships like this for days before Balon sent the ravens. Every single one claims that they come from the west, not east. I would not have let such a large fleet through the Narrow Sea if it were such a thing."

"And what of the Dornish?" Littlefinger asked. "Might they be willing to turn a blind eye to such an attack as of now? Perhaps they let the corsairs go to their south willingly. Would it be so surprising that those there wish to avenge Elia Martell and her children?"

"L-lord Petyr speaks true!" Pycelle exclaimed. "It is certainly a more plausible explanation than that some fleet came from the west! How many attempts have been made to go west over the centuries? And how many ended in absolute failure?"

Stannis responded in kind. "The sea is vast, Grand Maester. I know that better than any here." Jaime certainly thought it unusual for Stannis to have such venom in his voice as of now, at least openly.

Cersei spoke now. "And your knowledge is of the Narrow Sea, not the Sunset Sea. Pycelle is right, no man, not even under the dragons, managed to go further west than Lonely Light and return. It is a fool's errand to think otherwise."

"Quiet, woman." Robert spoke. Jaime would have punched him in his growing gut if he weren't the king. "Regardless, all this is mere hearsay and from the Ironborn at that! They only joined the Rebellion when it was all but won, and even then they did nothing! Why should I believe this nonsense?"

The Hand spoke up again. "Your grace, I fear it is not merely that." He got out a letter that clearly came from the Reach given its parchment. Jaime thought he saw the emblem of House Redwyne. The Arbor. "Rumours are spreading of another set of strange ships off the coast to the south-west, and that they approach the Arbor and the Shield Isles slowly but surely. Lord Redwyne claims at least three dozen ships were sighted. They had a carving of a two headed beast on their front and back supposedly, and made of a deep red wood, with green sails, according to the Lord himself, who allegedly saw one from his lighthouse."

"He must be drunk on his fine wines!" The king spoke. "How in the seven hells would a fleet like that cross so many miles of open sea! It must be those fucking Targaryens! Ever since my brother here failed to capture Viserys and his whore mother, they've plotted against me. If what Lords Greyjoy and Redwyne say is true, then we've got to fight the dragons once more!" He got up from his seat, though Jon calmed him to sit down. Cersei looked nervously at him. Even for Robert, something wasn't right here. He was angry, but something else was in his eyes too.

"Lord Redwyne is no drunkard, your grace." Ser Barristan noted. "He is attentive by all means. If two major lords have pointed out a threat, perhaps it is worth considering, no matter how unusual it may be." Always wise, Jaime thought.

"It's not unusual, Lord Commander," the Queen began, "we should have-"

"I told you to be quiet, Cersei." The king spoke louder this time. Joffrey began to cry, and the queen tried to comfort him, leaving the room and shooting Robert a scowl. Jaime would speak with her once this nonsense of a shift was done.

"Robert, the Targaryens are not the only possible option here, and you damned well know that!" Jon spoke with anger. "The report we received mere moments before this from Fair Isle is also in. It is most damning of all." More whispers began.

"If you insist," the king spoke.

"What could be worse than what has been claimed?" The Grand maester spoke.

"Lord Farman of Fair Isle has added a claim to these reports of a foreign armada to our west. He claims that Lord Farwynd of Last Light was sent to him in chains by a strange ship as described, offering a warning. "That we refused to listen when they offered gifts, refused the chance to reconcile for what the wolfmen did, whoever they are. That-"

"The Starks," Stannis interjected. "They meant the Starks."

"What has Ned done to invoke these people's wrath?" Robert queried.

"Not Eddard, brother." Stannis sighed. "Brandon the Shipwright. Over six hundred years before the conquest, one of the Stark kings built a fleet to colonise what was west of Westeros, likely hoping to come across a treasure to rival Valyria. None returned. It seems that the northerners were not courteous with the natives, so much that almost a thousand years later, they have come to us."

"You're telling me you're holding confidence in these reports?" Robert asked.

"They are from multiple highborn witnesses, our bannermen at that. Even if we dismiss the smallfolk claims as drunken fantasies, that does not change that multiple of your bannermen, including a Lord Paramount, have warned us about two fleets coming from the west."

Jaime's head was spinning at this revelation. _A force, from the west? _Even when growing up in Casterly Rock and listening to all the fairy tales the septa told him, the west was dismissed as the edge of the world, not another land itself.

"They must be some new sellsword company," Pycelle reasoned. "The Beggar King has somehow managed to hire something from the Free Cities, and wanted to attack from the west to throw us off. Or the Golden Company have found a Blackfyre daughter they want to try to put upon the Iron Throne."

Jon shook his head. "This is not some sellsword company. Viserys or Jon Connington would have struck for King's Landing were they attacking, or have stopped in Dorne, not sailing towards a potential ally in the Tyrells or Ironborn. And why would those Ironborn admit such weakness. And the numbers don't add up either."

Littlefinger interjected. "How large are these alleged fleets then?"

The Hand replied. "They say more than twenty in the northern prong, including cargo ships for settlers and who knows what. They say the fleet nearing the Arbor is more than twice the size and growing." Everyone in the room fell silent with some fear. "Lord Varys tells me the Golden Company at its height couldn't reach even half of those numbers, nor could all the sellsword companies known put together."

"What are you saying, friend?" The king answered, concerned more than angry now.

"Yes, what could this unforeseen threat be," Baelish added.

"I'm afraid the Ironborn are not trying to make us seem weak. The evidence from these accounts and Lord Varys is too great. We are being attacked by the other side of the Sunset Sea." He closed the paper.

This was too much to take in, and even stern diplomats and Kingsguard were looking around with concern. Even the cold eyed Mandon Moore showed a slight look of concern in his eyes. Jaime noticed another look in the King's eyes though. Many saw anger and rage that someone was trying to take his kingdom from him, but Jaime saw behind that was something else. Relief.


	4. Seinaya

The ship meant to transport them to the promised land was crowded and smelly. The crew through their filth overboard in bags. Seinaya held her babe close. She didn't know who else was here. She didn't trust any of them really.

She never chose to leave home, or her tribe behind, but as the needs of the Great empire grew, they trapped themselves in hubris. Not satisfied with what they had, they'd dragged themselves to an unsustainable point, and so the only resort was to cross the sea the sun came from and find the lands on the other side. She didn't deserve this. Her people didn't, but the empire and the selfish needs of its capital people always had to come first. Now she was going to be one of the first settlers of the New World.

"Seinaya," a voice spoke out. "Don't be fearful, this is what the Bird Beyond All wishes for us." It was Wamiyitl, whom she had met when boarding the settler ship. The older woman walked into her quarters and sat beside her.

"Do you think your bird knows where I feel now?" Her love Sekoatl, father of her child was fighting on the front lines, though whether it was the northern offensive or the larger southern one, she did not know.

"Of course he does, young one. He knows all of our plights." Wamiyitl was a much older woman, past fifty, whereas Seinaya had only turned two and twenty recently. Wamiyitl had lost her sons while they were fighting the Opichaka Confederation in the west ten years ago, and her grandchildren were at home with their mothers. She was lonely in all of this. That was something they shared at least. Perhaps she was wrong not to trust anyone.

"Your bird god gives you courage, friend," Seinaya sighed. "It is shameful my own are not so merciful." Seinaya was of the Natapachi tribe of the northern borderlands, a free people whose tribes once bowed only to the spirit gods of nature, before the Choqitex came expanding north and took them as tribute. With the weapons and techniques they had taken from the legendary wolfmen, they didn't stand a chance. The gods of her people had let this happen to her people, how could they be listening now? Especially so far away. "They are far away on the plains, not here with us."

"Honestly, young one, I don't know what these northern lands will bring, but the lands of the wolfmen and the winged serpent are not lands we should enter, mark my words." Seinaya had heard a thing or two about this 'winged serpent' of Choqi myth, but not the whole story. She would ask one day, but she felt differently.

"Why don't we get some fresh air, Wami?" Wamiyitl seemed happy to take part, and the two of them went out of the room, holding little Noya in her arms.

As she went past the other rooms, she noticed similar situations. Only a few rich or lucky families were intact, particularly those of the Choqi people's, almost none from other tribes of the empire. The vast majority of common families had the able bodied men and boys about to become men either as security in the ships or serving on the front line, ready to take land for the Empire.

"The ship certainly is nauseating," Wamiyitl said. "I don't think I've been sick so many times in the last fifty years as on this few months going on ship!" Seinaya wasn't motion sick often, but she knew the same.

"Indeed." She pointed to the stairs. "Just up there, Wami." The two guards, with bronze armour and obsidian clubs stepped aside to let them through. At least there were none of those horrible 'checks' this time.

It was good to see fresh air whenever possible. It was a shame the horizon was obscured by the ships. Nine other settler ships and five others for transporting the beasts were near, along with a phalanx of warships for defence. Ahead of them, over forty other ships would lead the direct assault on the enemy. Or was it fifty?

"Look!" One of the young boys cried out. "Dolphins!"

There they were, coming briefly out of the water to catch flying fish. Beautiful creatures by all measures of the word.

A soldier came out on a cigar break. Made from a plant of the jungles of Choqi itself, some soldiers would wrap it up and set it alight to relieve stress while on the job. Take too much and you could end up dazed and confused before battle. He was a slim and clean shaven man, his hair cut into a long strip around the centre, five inches long, and with green tips dyed in. "Greetings, ladies." She shouldn't be looking at him that way, for her husband was likely on one of those ships ahead, but he was hard to resist.

"Greetings, soldier." Seinaya replied with a smile. Wamiyitl did the same. Seinaya was curious about something though. "May I ask what is in the support ships?"

He laughed. "Ah, well the war beasts are kept there from all around the empire. We even have some of those animals the wolfmen bought, as they're just so good to ride! What are they called in your plains? Hox? Horx?"

"Hoziss" Seinaya said with a giggle. His naivety was appealing in some strange way. "When the wolfmen took over the east coast, some of their hoziss escaped and settled in our plains. Even long after their kingdom collapsed, the hoziss remain." She took a sigh. "I imagine there'll be alpacas and Toxis for transport?"

"You'd be right." The soldier said. "Not just that, but the Brickskins will be there to knock down soldiers with their tails. Brickskins she remembered were huge turtles, seven feet tall with spiked carapaces and mace like tails that could kill an armoured man in a single swing. "There's dozens of the Lockjaws of course for guard duty, as with my friend here." One of the fierce predators prowled by, with a pouch indicating she was a mother. Seinaya wasn't any less unnerved by that commonality. He whistled and a huge beetle as large as a monkey came over and climbed up his leg.

"Oh, I might go again!" Wamiyitl said as she went to the side to throw up again at the sight of it.

The soldier continued regardless. "Firetongues like my friend here can hardly fight in battle, but their acid spits can cut through even the thickest armour or rock if given enough time."

"And that is all you your forces have?" Wamiyitl asked. "They should be good to ride or scout, but I doubt they would be that intimidating based on how Opichaka went." Seinaya knew it bought Wami pain today remember those times.

The soldier raised an eyebrow. "Those are some of our forces from our heartland, but by no means all. A few Gifted over there have controlled the truly wild beasts like the Krokiteps and Thunderhorns, they will certainly be of use."

"They are truly a strange gift, to be able to tame a monster like a thunderhorn." That frightened Seinaya much. On the great plains of Sepinata, thunderhorns were great beasts second only to the Baraka in size, with a club like horn on their head, and a temperament that made them impossible to tame without the unnatural Gift. Even the bloodmages of old could only temporarily control them. "And doesn't the Empress's cousin ride a Krokitep into battle?"

The soldier nodded. "Protector Neshtaka indeed is bonded with a fire-coloured one called Sunbite, yes. One of the biggest ones I've seen. The cruelest creature in those jungles for sure, even if they pale compared to what our Crown Prince has managed. You should see Shaman Xoqunaq's Teroxilotl, but it can't live in seawater, so it remains back home."

"What of the northern plains of Septinata? My old home?"

"Hmmm." He looked ahead. "Your lands have some of the most useful beasts though. Thunderhorn, Crushjaws, gigalpachas and we've even got some Barakas with archer towers in that ship there!" He pointed to the leftmost cargo ship. Beasts as big as that must produce so much waste, she thought. Crushjaws form the vanguard of our cavalry because they can eat almost anything, including men! You'll see the prince and his friend soon enough. He will be coming to the ship soon to tell us the plan."

Seinaya was nervous at that. She had never seen the prince before, being of low birth, and he was coming here? It was said his mother had wolfsblood in her, and along with his father's divine bloodline of the Thunderbird, this made him truly exceptional. "When will this be, sir?"

He eyed one of the military ships. "I believe any moment." He turned to her, smiling. "How rude of me to not introduce myself to you ladies. I am Diya." He took his hand and place it out, and they slapped one another in the traditional Choqi greeting. She could tell from his name that he was from another people though.

"And I am Seinaya, and this is Wamiyitl here. I hope the remainder of your shift goes well."

He smiled. "And you too, I have-" he stopped. "Oh damn." He rushed to the side of the boat and shouted. "He's on his way! The prince is coming!"

At this all the soldiers readied the common people and the different castes into place. The soldiers, the merchants, the slaves, the untouchables, the plains people like herself, and the Choqi elite. As she looked, she saw a great two winged shape approach, growing in the sky. The ship deck was cleared. It appeared this one was indeed the first.

The Thunderbird was massive as it hovered to land. Each of its legs was longer than even the tallest man, with talons like knives. It didn't use its feet to kill prey, but clearly it's huge head, with a beak as long as Seinaya was tall. It's feathers were silver but with a blue streak in them like lightning, and it's eyes golden. She could see the reigns and saddle on the beast as it landed. When it did, it called out, far louder and deeper than any normal bird, and the crowd went in uproar. What a magnificent bird!

"The Bird Beyond's fledgling, clearly!" Wamiyitl cried out in hysteria.

The Thunderbird lowered its huge body down, still over eight feet from back to belly, and the crown prune hopped off to great cheers. He looked every bit the warrior, with piercings of gold and bone across his lips and face, and tattoos covering almost his entire upper half. The prince wore a crown of red feathers on his head. His eyes were as amber as those of his mount and teeth as white as pearls. He wore no shirt, and seemed to flaunt his appearance with a toothy grin on his face. He certainly seemed like a vain man, though who could blame him with that thing he rode? The guards came forward and gave him a cloak to wear. She noticed a hole shaped mark on his lower abdomen, supposedly the result of an accident during a crushjaw jousting event.

"I see you all are ready and eager!" Many cheered. "Your sons and fathers in the ships ahead will make all of you proud, trust me. I know many of you didn't want this, I know you lost sons or husbands in the west, I do, and my heart goes out to you now." This felt shallow to Seinaya, but the people ate it regardless. "But that was my father's mistake, not mine, and he didn't have what we've got!" His eyes turned white, and his great bird reared up, fifteen feet at the hip and cawed out, and lightning came out of its mouth! It is small wonder that the Choqi modelled their goddess of war off this creature.

"Exactly, sons and sisters!" He cheered out. "Our home is sick, the earth is groaning for our foolishness and transgressions, the Winged Serpent seeks to break free from below the earth. If were aren't ready to face it, then it will swallow us all!" Many, including Wamiyitl were hysterical now. _He's riling them up. Who only knows what he's done with the soldiers. _"Therefore, I tell you. Your men will be out there taking land, food and slaves so our people can live. I will watch over you and lead your boys into glorious battle, but all of you are the heroes of the future! For even the lowest caste of you will enjoy freedom like never before! You will be at the frontier of a new age for our empire! You will bring glory to the Bird Beyond All and all the other gods and goddesses! You will save our people!" The uproar was almost deafening.

"Save our people?" Seinaya said to herself. "You mean you end them."

Ooc: any questions will be answered later tonight or tomorrow.


	5. Eddard

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, looked over the courtyards of Winterfell. Men were training, women and children carrying livestock, and supplies coming in. He saw his boys Robb and Jon playing with little wooden swords, while Rodrick watched over them.

"Ned." His wife called out. "Maester Luwin thinks it will be a girl." She held her belly to signify what she meant.

"A sister?" Ned was content for another child. He knew Catelyn wanted at least one or two more children. The Tullys were well known for their fertility, so this should not be an issue, and Ned knew that he needed more than one son to secure the future of the Starks, since Benjen had gone to the Wall.

"Indeed." She came up next to him and put her hand in his free one. "I have high hopes for the future, Ned. I hope I don't lose you like in the Rebellion."

He looked back at her. "We were scarcely married then, Cat. We'd only been together a fortnight before I went south."

"And you gave me Robb in that time, but that didn't change how much I needed you even then. I know you had your reasons to fight in the south, I do. But this is what we need right now. You need to be there for your son, and your daughter."

Ned put his hand on Catelyn's belly. He felt a little kick.

"Did you feel that?"

"Indeed. Let us hope she makes it to term." He knew Catelyn didn't like his more cold demeanor, but after all that he had seen, in the south or in his own lands, true joy wasn't something that came to him often. He would reserve it for when the babe was born. _If _it was born.

"She will, Ned." Cat walked after him. "I know it in my heart. I will pray to the Old Gods and the New for it."

"I know you will." He said. "As will I." And that is where he went.

While in the godswood, he took out Ice and laid it at the alter of the weirwood, which seemed to scowl at him for his failures. _I'm sorry, Lia. _He thought of Robert, of Jon, of Howland and of his own Jon. _Promise me, Ned, _those eternal words rang. This was normal for him, but something else was there that wasn't.

It was as if the old gods were warning him of something catastrophic to come. Winter was a long way off, for it was spring, but something else was here in the meantime. A rebellion perhaps?

It was no secret Robert's rule over the Seven Kingdoms was teetering. Ned had heard it was only Jon's intervention that stopped the Dornish from declaring for Viserys. The Tyrells no doubt schemed in their own way, the Ironborn no doubt thought the Baratheons weaker than the Targaryens of old. And the _Lannisters. _The gods knew they had enough power as it is, they certainly didn't need more of it. Or was it-

Ned heard a knocking noise at the edge of the godswood. It was Maester Luwin. He looked somber about something or another.

Ned got up, wiped Ice of water and walked forward. "Maester, is there news from the south?"

"I am afraid so, my Lord. His Grace has sent you a request to go south, but I fear that this is perhaps even more urgent." He held out a letter with a green seal on it.

"What is this?" Ned exclaimed as he walked up. "Has Robert died? Jon? Is there a mutiny in White Harbor? What could be more urgent than the king requesting my presence?"

"No, my Lord." Luwin said. "It is quite unlike anything I've seen before." He gave the letter to Ned, who saw a new seal. It felt course, and still sticky even after all this journey. The cold did not change this either.

"I know not this seal. Not from any house you taught me about as a boy." He began to open the letter. He wasn't quite sure what to think when he first opened, but as he read, it made sense.

It was clear whoever wrote it did not speak the Common Tongue first, for there were grammatical errors and poor spelling in a number of places. But it was a warning, a threat. Not merely to armies, but to him personally.

"'Lord Stark," Ned began to read out "-we are distant kinsmen you...plus I. Your ancestor came to our world and raped it for all it was worth. We thought it the end, but we survived and grew. More than that, we took what King Stark has given us and used it to grow ourselves. I have Gift of your ancestors, and your wolfsblood run through my veins as well. My emperor demand we conquer you and people, and enact our long overdue vengeance. We have already taken Lone Light and besiege Wyk."

"He meant the Iron Islands." Maester Luwin notes.

"I know" Ned replied. "And he means Brandon the Shipwright, doesn't he? I thought they were lost forever?"

"Indeed they were," Luwin replied. "But that doesn't mean they disappeared. Perhaps they did find a new world, but never returned. Perhaps they lost their honour and the natives want revenge of some sort?"

Ned nodded. "'That is what it would seem." He continued. "'The grander army and prince Xechomicoc upon his Thunderbird sail for south. My allies But I request something more person." It sounded like madness, as if some lunatic had written it. "I want sea your land, ever since I was boy. I shunned by my priests for wolfsblood, and Gift, but I want to meet you, in home or at battle, to unite our branch. By..." Ned could only try and pronounce this names-"Uz-Chaxatu and Tonaedarciu, I swear this to see 'North' before I die. Yepsundi Neshtaka." Ned turned to Luwin. "Who has sent you this? Is this some elaborate joke of sorts?"

Luwin shook his head. "No, Lord. The parchment type and that particular raven carrying it come from Great Wyk of all places, and yet when have the Ironborn dared use such courtesy with us? It is like nothing I have learned about in the citadel. It seems the Sunset Sea was not the edge of existence at all."

Ned didn't believe it. "This cannot be right. The lord of Wyk has lost his mind and gained another! There is little beyond that." Luwin had the other letter in hand now. It was the royal seal of house Baratheon. He took this one. He knew what this type of seal was.

"Ned, we're facing a threat I never even considered. All this time I was thinking the Targaryens would return from the east, but here we are being attacked from the west. I've got reports from Wyk, Pyke, Fair Isle, the Arbor and even as of today Oldtown of strange fleets being either sighted or fought. They say the strangers bring lightning with them, like in the old myths! Lord Redwyne claims he saw a great bird too!'" _Was this the 'Thunderbird' in the letter, _Ned thought. "'Gods, Ned, this is more of a headache than I could have imagined. Whatever all this is, I need you down south. We're being attacked, and I need you and Jon by my side when we drive them back into the sea. Your king, Robert Baratheon, First of His Name.'" This was much for Ned to take in at once. He had expected Tyrell, Martell or Greyjoy to rise up and be the enemy, but it seemed something else entirely was at hand.

"My lord?" Luwin notices Ned's heavy breathing.

He finally spoke again. "Call the banners. As many as we can get." He went to talk to Cat and Rodrick.

—

When he first explained to Catelyn he needed to go south, she flew into anger and fear. He didn't even have time to explain the true threat. "No, Ned! I lost Brandon when he went south, I won't lose you too! Your daughter needs a father as much as she needs me!"

"We're at war, Catelyn. I'm calling the banners already, I will be setting off tomorrow. Robert needs me by his side."

"So do I! He may be your friend but I am your wife! I carry your flesh and blood! Robert has other banner-men besides you. Let the Tyrells or Lannister's deal with this. It's their land after all. And when were you concerned about the Greyjoys?"

"This isn't some petty rebellion, Catelyn, this is-"

The door opened. It was Jon. He looked at Ned, and back at Catelyn, who shot a scowl at him. "I...I'm sorry, my lady." He turned back to Ned. "Father." He certainly had Lyanna's eyes, he noticed. The door shut again.

Catelyn returned. "He is what happened when you last went south. Shall I expect another bastard to raise?"

Ned stood up. "There will not be another. You have my word, this is for the realm. It's an inv-" she ignored what he had to say. Jon always angered her, he noticed, even when she wouldn't admit it.

"Are you going to do it again? Despoil our marriage bed with that bastards mother?"

"ENOUGH! There will be no more of it!" He bellowed. She was taken aback by his volume, and sank back into her seat. She shouldn't have said that. He sighed. "I will leave tomorrow, and I will figure out how to deal with the invaders."

Catelyn, still reeling from his outburst, was quiet. "Invaders?" She almost whispered.

"Yes. I scarcely believe it myself, but one of them appeared to write to me, demanding revenge for Brandon the Shipwright's expedition, almost a thousand years ago."

"I had thought that a tale. How...after all this time? And why?"

"I know no more than you do. But whatever this is, I must answer Robert's call. He isn't just my friend, he is my king, and I owe him my service. And I need to know what the messenger meant." He got up and turned to the door. Before he left, he heard Cat.

"I love you Ned. Promise me you'll return to Winterfell alive and well. Promise me, Ned!" She pleaded.

He bowed down, a lone tear down his icy cheek. "I promise."


	6. Samwell

"M...my lords?" Young Sam Tarly asked the twins. Sent to serve as a page by his father, Randyll Tarly, Sam knew that this was not meant to be a prestigious position, and indeed it wasn't, for Lord Paxter Redwyne's sons, the twins Horas and Hobber did not hold him in high regard. They would tease him for his weight and young age, even if they were only ten years old themselves. Only their younger sister Desmera showed any sympathy for Sam in his position. They were the same age after all.

"What is it, piggy?" Hobber replied. He was only younger by a minute and eighteen seconds than Horas, but he was younger nevertheless, and for this, he slightly resented his older brother, Sam noticed. As if he envied the heir. He wore a dark green and black striped shirt to stand from his brother's light green and purple, the house's colours. His black trousers also contrasted the white of Horas. "Don't you have some truffles to dig up in the fields?" Horas laughed at this, and Hobber joined in.

"I think he must have eaten them all by now!" The older brother chipped in. That led to more laughing, and more of Sam's awkward silence.

Sam starts anyway. "Y-your father wishes to speak to you. He...he sent me." Sam was always courteous around the twins, to not be so meant he might be disciplined, or worse, sent back to Father.

"Does he now?" Hobber sneered. "Is this about those supposed invaders that the fishermen claimed? Father can't seriously believe those claims, can he?"

Horas showed similar dismissive eye rolling. "I have better things to do than this." He walked off, leaving Hobber and Sam. Hobber dwarfed Sam in height, but he wasn't quite as imposing without his brother.

"My Lord, he is-is as serious as serious can be, he does indeed wish to see you and your brother. He's on the balcony, with your mother." Sam replied, as confidently as he could. He needed to work on his voice. Being shy _and _fat only made him a bigger target.

The younger twin, after a moment of squinting at Sam, sighed. "Alright then." Hobber pushed Sam aside and headed up the doorway to see his father. Now Sam needed to find Horas and Desmera to see if they were around. Sam knew that bad things were coming, though he didn't quite understand what. He had heard the servants whispering about some kind of attack coming. Was it the Ironborn? The Lannisters? The Targaryens, perhaps? And there were stories about a great bird or dragon there too. Or that the Drowned God had emerged from the sea! Was any of this true? He did not know. What he did know was that Lord Paxter Redwyne himself was concerned about what was coming and was issuing preparations.

Sam rushed down the hallway looking for Paxter's other children, eager to tell them the news. The guards weren't here as usual for some reason, perhaps with Lord Redwyne himself. He-

He bumped into a shape taller than himself and fell. He heard a gasp as he tumbled to the floor, paper in hand.

"Sam! Are you alright?" It was lovely Desmara, in a pretty white dress, her long red hair grown out, her freckles cheeks blushed like rose. His father had sent him to woo her with the possiblity of betrothal, though she was far too beautiful for him, he knew it. She would no doubt be wedded to some higher lord's son when she got older, not him. The best he could hope for was in the Citadel, and that would be very lucky. She likely only felt pity for him.

"I am fine, my lady." He shamefully said as he got up on his own, scrambling to get the papers he had dropped. He certainly wasn't fine on the inside. "Your father wants to see you."

"Papa?" She questioned. "You mean my lord father wishes to see me now?"

Sam maintained his urgency. "Yes. And your brothers, too! He seemed urgent!" Lord Paxter had practically shouted at Sam to get the children, and his wife, Lady Mina had been no different. "I'm sorry for bumping into you, my lady!"

She giggled. "It's fine, Samwell, you were just scared, is all! And you don't need to call me 'lady', I'm only his daughter. You're going to be heir to Hornhill! Now let's go and see my father!" _Hornhill would be very lucky for me, _he thought.

Sam ran after her, panting and sighing. Before he could catch up to her proper, Horas, the eldest came through between them. "Where are you going, little page?" Sam never liked Horas. Whereas Hobber was mean out of jealousy of some sort, Horas was genuinely arrogant.

"Your father wants to-" he was cut off with a slap on his head. "Ooooowwww!"

"Don't come after my sister again, you little fat turd!" He stood in front. "You don't think I notice the way you look at her? As if she were some flower for you to pluck? She will never marry you, pig!" He pushed Sam back again, where he nearly tripped over.

"Horas! Don't be so mean to him!" Desmera intervened. "He's just telling us to see Father and Mother! That's all! Stop it!"

Horas relented before any more teasing took place. "Very well, seeet sister. I'll see you in Father's quarters." He walked off now, up the chamber.

Sam was grateful to Desmera for what she did. "Thank you, my lady." He smiled, in spite of the pain, as he still winced. "I'm but a page boy, yet you helped me regardless."

"He shouldn't treat you like that, Sam, it isn't fair to be like that!" She held him up back to his feet. "I'll see you in Father's quarters!" She ran up the stairs. Sam stares there for some time. Now he needed to make it. Pages had their duties after all.

The side of Sam's head continued to ache as he slowly climbed the stairs. He needed to take a break before he could go any further, tired and out of breath. As he waited, one of the maids came rushing up, towering over him, with short brown hair, and sweating with what appeared to be fear. She tried to shout at him but he couldn't tell what she was saying. She stopped next to him. "They're...getting...closer. Ships! Less...than three...hours off shore!" Sam's breath lost him once again. Ships were coming! There was something coming! And fast!

They finished their way up the stairs into Lord Paxter's chambers. He was already telling the boys what was happening, while Lady Mina held Desmera closely. Before Sam could open his mouth, the servant explained what she had saw. Lady Redwyne held her daughter closer, and soon her sons went to her as well, their faces laced with fear.

"My love! Go down to the cellar with the maids and servants! Jenna here will escort you there now! Boys! You go with her too. Samwell, you will stay by my side."

Horas protested. "But father, we should be by your side fighting the enemy! Why does the pig page stay with you?"

Lord Paxter spoke up. "You are my sons, and I can't risk you falling into enemy hands." _But I can be risked, _Sam thought. Somehow he thought his father wouldn't care either way what happened. As soon as Dickon was born, Sam knew his time as heir was numbered, when that horrible bath had been given to him. Sam wished his own father cared about him the way Lord Redwyne did about his. "Sam will stay with me and send a raven or message should the Arbor fall, so reinforcements from Oldtown should come to meet them. Ser Merigold shall lead the ground forces, while I shall lead our fleet against the invader, to protect not only our island, but Oldtown itself!"

The sons, while nervous, nodded, and soon they and their mother obeyed and went down in the direction of the cellars. Desmera looked back at Sam, worried about what was coming, as was he.

Sam turned to Lord Redwyne, no less distressed now. "What is your wish for me, my Lord?" Sam had no idea what these Ironborn or pirates would do, but it couldn't have been good. He was too young to understand the things of grownups, but he knew bad men were coming.

"You will come with me. I won't let you fall into enemy hands, don't worry, or your poor mother would never forgive herself. Or me for that matter. Come with me." His voice was stern here, and so Sam followed the big grown up lord to the balcony. Two guards and a nervous servant looked over, and the guards didn't look happy either. Sam was only six years old, and so couldn't see over the wall. Lord Redwyne suddenly grabbed him, heaving a little due to Sam's pudgy weight, and stood him up on the side of the wall. It felt uneasy being on a wall even with a grown up supporting him.

Below the castle, the port town of Ryamsport was blocked up to limit ships coming in and out, the Redwyne fleet was readying itself for what was next beyond it, vast in number and well versed. Prepared for the enemy. To his left, the other town of Starfish Harbor, while smaller, seemed similarly prepared, with more ships setting off to meet the enemy. But Sam didn't see anything yet. The Isles to the north east were visible, but not much else was clear from here.

"Selwick, pass me the Myrish glass." A servant same with a bronze coloured tube with glass inside. It looked like a small torch.

"There, milord." The willowy servant said to his lord. Now Sam could see it had some language written on it. Septa Dalla has talked about giving Sam Valyrian lessons, though there were many dialects and he didn't know Myrish.

Paxter looked through nervously and only seemed worse when he shave it to Sam. "Look through the small end." Sam did as he was told and now the sea and islands looked much bigger. He noticed that trade cogs and burning warships were sailing away now.

Then he saw them.

Sam saw many strange ships surrounding the Isle of Pigs in the distance, and as he squinted, it seemed as if there were bright flashes, despite there being no clouds in the sky. As he turned, he also saw ships docking on Horseshoe Rock. He saw little shapes coming on the beaches, some may have been men, but others looked larger. Horses? Bears? He didn't know. Something bigger than all the others came out of one ship, resembling a horse, but he still couldn't tell, they were too far away. It was an invasion after all!

"My Lord! They're taking the little islands with ships and monsters!" Sam cried. "They're that close to us! How long do we have before they reach Ryamsport?" Sam didn't want to die, even if living meant going back home.

"I must be honest with you, it'll be two and a half hours if the tides are right! Until that, we wait till they come, till-" he paused. "_What is that?" _Lord Redwyne pointed to a growing shape in the sky. Slowly growing, but growing nevertheless. "Seven hells! To the fleet!" He grabbed Sam and rushed to the exits with the guards. "Carry him if you have to!" Sam was slow, so they did have to.

"What did he see?" Sam asked as he was being shaken as they moved. He thought he might be sick with all the motion.

Ser Laenor replied. "It's better not knowing, boy. We're all in this situation together."

Ser Graham by his side sneakily said "it seems you'll find out soon enough!" Laenor pushed st him for that remark. He was right though. This wasn't the time for jokes!

Sam was now being carried into the courtyard directly behind Lord Paxter, who was getting on his horse with his escort and heading straight for the docks. "Don't let the attackers near the castle. Guard my family with your lives!" He got on his horse, and Laenor put Sam up on another horse alongside him, a white mare. Now they began to gallop toward danger.

Sam has never been so scared. As he shook under the horse's galloping, tears soured from his eyes. He wanted his mother now! Why wS all of this happening? He wanted to be back home again, with his siblings, and mother! Even father didn't seem so bad at this time!

Now as he approached the town's gates, he saw the shape in the sky, getting closer and closer. It had two great wings soaring out like a seabird, but appeared far larger, and it seemed as if it had been thunderstruck. A great bird! It was almost at the coast now.

Commotion and panic set in as the people of the town fled in all directions. Lord Redwyne would not flee, but headed for the port, to the ships, where he was in his element. There were also weapons on those ships that could shoot down enemies. They needed to be quick though.

As they rose through the streets, a deep boom went through the air, like a bird's call, but far louder and deeper, like thunder. Sam knew the monster was coming and fast. The sounds of the docks were near too. Men were rushing ahead. Lord Paxter cried out "to arms!" as his men prepared to dock the flagship "the Grapes of Wrath".

A great noise like a buzzing insect filled the air, followed by the screams of many men by the dock. Sam saw little, but saw what he thought was lightning heading sideways behind a few buildings where the dock was most visible. The lightning stories were true. He knew from the septa that being in or near water was the worst place one could be when lightning struck, but this wasn't natural.

"Oh father, protect us!" Graham exclaimed. "A monster that breathes lightning as a dragon breathes fire!" Nothing like this was in the storybooks!

"It's wings must be a hundred feet from tip to tip!" Laenor exclaimed as the monstrous bird came into view over the ground. In one talon was a horse and some knight Sam recognised. "Oh Ser Patryck!" Laenor noticed. "Reduced to bird food. What a terrible fate!" Sam had seen how gulls ate their food, fish or bird. They would pick at it bite by bite as it continued to struggle. He only imagined Patryck and his horse had a similar fate to come.

Lord Redwyne charged out his lance regardless. "To the Grapes of Wrath! We have the weapons to- dear gods, it has a rider!"

Sam looked up. Paxter was right, a man rode on the back of the great bird, sword in hand. It was too loud to take in, but Sam could have sworn he heard laughing as the great monster descended upon them.

_There's no place like home, _he thought, reminded of some old story he'd read in a book. _There's no place like home, there's no place like home. _


	7. Neshtaka (II)

It was a stormy, rainy night, and thunder shone in the sky. With the largest and westernmost islands of Wyk and Great Wyk taken, and Orkmont under seige from Commander Muntez, Neshtaka knew that the islands further east would be more difficult, as their men would guard them fiercely without a doubt. As he would secure these so called 'Iron Islands' and Commander Tzoutzili was currently sailing for 'Fair Isle', his forces would use these as a springboard toward the vast mainland. He knew the capital of this empire as great or even greater than his own was on the other side of the land, so he would need every inch of courage and wisdom he had, or else he would fail his mission, and he would never get to see this 'Winterfell', where the Wolfmen came from. He had sent a letter to the 'warden of the North', Eddard Stark demanding a meeting or surrender, but it would be some time before a reply came back, if at all.

"Where are we heading toward now, Lord Farwynd?" He turned to the young and shy Giles, new lord of Lonely Light. His father had been sent to warn Fair Isle and 'Lannisport' of the punishment, and when his purpose was done, Tzoutzil sacrificed him in front of the horrified locals, pulling out his beating heart and feasting upon it to their horror. Neshtaka thought this was excessive, and unceremonious compared to burning the heart. But these people deserved fear. Or so that is what the Emperor's priests has told him. Apparently his wolfsblood meant he too deserved it, though they would never say that to his face.

"This island is called Saltcliffe, my Lord," he said nervously. "It is known for the readily available saltmines and farmland for sheep. It is ruled by Lord Saltcliffe and his second in command Lord Sunderly. My second skin-" referring to his whale he was Gifted with, "-tells me that they're gathering a great fleet to meet us, with Lord Greyjoy's brothers heading the defence. It seems likely they will fight your force with everything they've got." The young lord Farwynd tried not to offend with his voice, he could tell, not that it would matter. Perhaps he would grant one of Balon Greyjoy's sons or brothers the rulership of 'Pyke' once the islands were secured. Neshtaka himself hoped the Emperor would grant him the so called 'Riverlands' to the east as a reward.

"I am sure they shall," Neshtaka responded. "I had no doubt they would defend their lands bitterly. They know these harsh waters better than we do. But we have other advantages." He turned to Sunbite, his bronze and gold scales shining in the lightning, glistened from the rain. The beast growled but sat down, waiting for orders. Even his own men feared his companion greatly, for he was far larger and more fearsome than the lockjaws they used for war or security. "I expect this one shall fall as easily. I will revel when Lord Greyjoy's heart is torn out and burnt in honour of the gods."

He went above deck with Sunbite behind, looking upon the coasts of the island ahead. He could see the so called 'Iron Fleet' up ahead already, gathered into position. Or some at least. Lord Saltcliffe would no doubt rather die fighting than cowering. Respectable. He walked to the front of the ship and observed the other crew's own preparations, of their weapons, their lockjaws, and most importantly, their minds.

As his men marched into their battle positions, Neshtaka prepared himself. The siegebows would be filled with explosives to beat through the fleet, and the enemy was laid right into a trap. With the fleet destroyed, the army and beasts could get on the mainland and use their full potential. Only the Barakas would be spared from the islands, for they were being saved for the mainland. Neshtaka had about sixteen of the beasts under his control for then. The prince had perhaps forty.

"We're getting closer to the Iron Fleet." He said to his captains. "We should prepare to hit them with everything we can. Our fleet should begin to fire within the next few minutes as we get closer!" The men were already getting excited. Cheers were heard around. "The islands to the west fell without much difficulty, and this campaign shall be no different! The gods watch over us tonight, and our emperor will be proud of us." The Choqi men chanted in the sacred hymns to prepare. He and the other Gifted were less eager to sing along, but couldn't help themselves in excitement.

The ships they were targeting looked gathered into a spot. Such foolish tactics would be their undoing! "Get the ships on the edges into position with the green flag."

The plains soldier Lostok responded. "Right away, chief!" And waved the flag. The ships to the peripheries of the Choqi fleet prepared their bows and their explosive payloads toward the outer edges of the enemy fleet. Once the peripheries were alright, he could move in and crush the remainder.

"Fire away!" The men signalled to the left and right ships, and they prepared to hurl their firey projectiles at the ships. Neshtaka saw the great bows open up, get their firey payloads on, and unleash their hellfire upon the Ironborn. The great balls of fire shot through the sky like falling stars and landed on their quarry. The explosions were fearsome, even if some didn't go off in the rain. All the same, they caused destruction and terror wherever they landed.

They quickly set the ships ablaze or sank them outright, as debri spread fire to other ships too. Neshtaka was proud. He could already see the little iron men jumping overboard to put out the flames! It was all coming together, and the ships in the middle seemed only to panic as their defenses were failing, firing bolts and arrows back at the Choqi, only for few to even reach the ships.

"It seems to be going well, chief" one of his commanders said. "Won't be long until we can board."

"I say we board now." Neshtaka said in response. The enemy's ships were alight and now he could personally move in for the kill! "Set for the centre, now!" He called out to his men.

As he moved closer, however, something didn't feel right. He looked into the water, and the people drowning or crying for help looked unarmed, or underprepared. It felt like-

The boat shook. Neshtaka turned around and one of his fellow ships had been rammed into by another vessel. "Gods damned!" He exclaimed as he saw a larger Ironborn fleet behind his own. It had been a trap!

Upon one of the ships, he saw a strange man with black hair and one eye, even at this distance. The man laughed, even if Neshtaka couldn't hear him. Beside him stood a huge man with long hair and a great axe, and a third, with long hair and throwing axes. They must have been the Greyjoy commanders. This would not be an easy victory after all!

"Ahead! We have been tricked!" He called to his men. "To battle!" He drew out his steel sword, one he had obtained while fighting the Ironborn, and threw his arm up to drive his men forward. He ducked only narrowly avoiding an enemy arrow. _They have no honour, _he thought. Sunbite ran in front of him, his thick scaly hide guarding him from the arrows, which for now we're faraway. The Ironborn ships were far more mobile than his own, for they had their lives worth of experience at sea, whereas he did not. Even a young Ironborn captain knew more than he did.

And now he would pay the price for his arrogance. At least there was room to escape should the need be. Not west for the other islands, but the mainland. That was worth far more than these rocky islands anyway!

Neshtaka's own ship collided with one of the attacking Ironborn. Soldiers from both sides boarded the other's ship. The Ironborn were well equipped and fearless, high on morale, but the Empire's people had beasts on their side and superior archers. More importantly, they still had numbers.

Neshtaka flung his obsidian tipped spear towards a soldier's neck, killing him in a single thrust. He pulled it out in time to intercept another soldier. The spear was pushed aside, but the older man dodged. He was old enough to have many years under his belt in combat. He stalled the man attacking, and waiting till his back was turned. Not to himself, but to-

The man fell as Sunbite knocked him over and crushed his skull in his jaws. Sunbite has a couple of arrows in him, but they weren't deep. He could survive these. But Neshtaka needed to survive these threats regardless. Realising the challenge as the battle raged on, he felt he needed to retreat. The cargo ships at the back were well outside of range at least. He fought on, and went to board the rival ship.

The man who must have been Lord Saltcliffe was waiting on the dock of the ship. The island's Lord was balding, but his remaining hair was shoulder length and black, his shoulders broad and eyes hard, his axe and shield in hand. He charged forward, and Neshtaka braced himself. He remembered when he could charge with such fervour, but he was fifty now, those days were gone. He could still stand his ground though, he wouldn't die on his feet. He prepared.

Neshtaka dodged the axe blow narrowly, but his own spear thrust was dodged too. Saltcliffe knocked the spear down with his axe and sent his shield into Neshtaka's belly. His belly aches immediately, and he felt a rib or two must have been cracked. He staggered back, but never let go of his obsidian spear.

He dodged another of Saltcliffe's axe blows and returned the favour with a kick to his back, sending him tumbling over, his shield thrown away and quickly grabbed by another Choqi soldier, Kolotil he thought the name was. He tried to thrust his spear, but the pain grew too intense and he dropped it. Before he could take his chance, his opponent got up. Before he could strike, Saltcliffe charged again, angrily.

Neshtaka drew out the steel sword and parried quickly. He went for the wood instead of the axe head.

Lord Saltcliffe howled in pain and dropped his axe. Neshtaka wasn't sure why, until he saw that four of his fingers were on the floor next to the axe. He took his chance, and killed the now defenceless lord with a thrust to his neck. Blood gurgled our and the lord struggled against the inevitable for longer than Neshtaka would have thought possible. He had no time to watch though. He picked up his spear again and continued onward.

Despite his own success, the ambush had been a danger, and he had no choice but to order a retreat.

"They're winning! Withdraw! Head east to the mainland! Now!"

"Yes, commander," one of his messengers responded, narrowly dodging an arrow.

Neshtaka responded with the signal. "Fly the yellow flag, and make sure to fly it up and down, so they know to go east! Go!" The messenger nodded and went back to his ship to fly the flag.

Neshtaka, his belly still aching from the shield blow, marches on regardless. If he could kill one of the Greyjoys before dying, he would at least disrupt the Ironborn attack and save more of his men. He saw bodies of both sides, and he didn't want to risk even more of the invasion fleet dying.

As he walked through the rain, he came into front of the one-eyed Ironborn. The other Ironborn soldiers stepped aside. He opened the door of the boat, and his companion shuddered as the door creaked. The one eyed man drew his sword. "Well, you've come far, haven't you? Too far!" He ran forward but let the other man go forward, tears in his eyes.

Neshtaka met him head on, and the two wrestled for some time. But Neshtaka's foot went upward, to try and knee his attacker in the groin. But in doing so, he tripped.

The two combatants fell onto the side of the boat, and Neshtaka found himself on his back, his stomach aching even more now the Greyjoy was on top of him. The two looked the other in the eye with shock as they both fell overboard. Neshtaka could have sworn there was a push.

_Oh well, _he thought as he tumbled toward the sea.


	8. Barristan (I)

**Barristan **

The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan Selmy, came forward, with his fellow kingsguard in tow not far behind. The king himself was behind on horseback. The king had raised ten thousand Crownlander men to march west with him, and soon they would be joined by much bigger armies coming from all around the Seven Kingdoms, from the Vale to Storm's End. Barristan was doubtful the Dornish would play any part in this war unless directly attacked. The Lannisters and Tyrells would no doubt have the majority of soldiers necessary to counter the invader, but without their king to 'protect' his vassals, it would be too much of a risk to ignore them. The Tyrells were still bitter about losing the rebellion, despite how little they contributed, and Barristan understood the risks he had bringing the king here.

"Your grace." He bowed to his now cheerful king. "My sword is yours." The other four members of the kingsguard shared his bow. Two more, Meryn Trant and Blount we're back in King's Landing with the Queen and Prince. "We are about to enter the Westerlands, and it would seem that to meet with Lord Tywin is essential at this time."

Robert stood up from his makeshift wooden throne. No iron for sure. "Lord Tywin will wait at my disposal, not me at his. I told you I want Ned by my side when we go, and that is exactly what will happen." He looked up toward the north, hopeful that the Stark forces would be coming soon.

"Of course, your grace." Barristan bowed once more to his king, as the latter got up to get more wine. He would normally send for a servant, like Jaime's cousin, Lancel, but it seemed he was fed up of the boy again. Barristan turned to the horizon and looked ahead.

The fields bordering the slim southern Riverlands and the hills of the Westerlands were encamped with many men, and far more were on their way. Barristan could already see a larger red army heading up in the distant hills, though he remained silent. It reminded him of fighting against Melys 'the Monstrous' Blackfyre, as the Lannister forces, then the laughing stock of Westeros, charged into battle. Once again they were led by a proud lion, though he was nearly forty years older.

"How long will it be until the enemy reaches here?" Ser Oakheart asked.

"My father knows the Westerlands better than any of you," Ser Jaime responded. "It takes many days for even him to cross here in his armies from Casterly Rock. Any enemy that invades would take far longer, assuming they even make it this far!" This certainly wasn't incorrect given what terrain like this could offer. Hills were never an easy target to attack, but they were to defend. Which is why so many build castles on them. Robert would no doubt take advantage of this if it happened. Barristan hoped it wouldn't come to that. _And if the Westerlands are savaged, what of the bounty of the Reach? How many of our countrymen, our smallfolk, our children would perish to foreign armies? _

"I have my doubts they would be able to reach this far inland." Barristan responded. "That is certainly true. But what of the Reach? Or the Riverlands? The Greyjoys are fighting hard against the northern fleet, no doubt, but should they fall, there won't be much stopping Seagard from falling to the invaders. And then the forts of the Riverlands could fall one by one to the enemy, leaving King's Landing open to attack." Besides Lord Tully, many of the lords didn't allow their smallfolk in their castles even during the harsh winters, and their endless bickering with one another is what stopped the region from being a power on part with the North or Vale. "The southern fleet is an even greater threat, if the rumours are true."

"_If _they are true, Lord Commander," Jaime rebutted. "I'm having difficulty believing the situation as it is, let alone these claims their prince rides a dragon or great bird. Whichever it even is!"

King Robert chimed in after coming back, drink in hand. "I bloody hope he does. I'd love to knock them out of the sky and smash him with Fury." The king's mighty warhammer stood next to the makeshift throne, a mighty weapon that only the strongest warriors could effectively yield without staggering. "We should be getting a raven any moment or day, the sooner the bloody better! Redwyne and Hightower still haven't given me anything. And the gods know what Mace bloody Tyrell is doing about all this!" Robert knew it was his duty to go protect his vassals, as any king should, but the usurper was not as keen to work with those who wanted him dead.

The young Lannister lad came, another chalice in hand. "Y-your grace, your drink?"

"You stinking idiot, Lancel!" The king bellowed. "I got my own bloody drink while you were prancing around. Though...it'd be rude to refuse another." He laughed as he grabbed it out of his squire's hand. The queen had insisted her cousin come with the king and her brother as a matter of prestige. Barristan didn't trust how many Lannisters were in King's Landing, and in a way, he felt the battlefield would be safer. Perhaps it would be. Never since the arrival of the Andals had Westeros been this united as a political force. From the Wall to Dorne, the peoples of the Seven Kingdoms were mobilising against an invader unlike any they had seen before.

"Ah, your grace?" Jaime opened up. "It seems my father is close now." They turned. Indeed, the army was moving quickly, and it would be mere hours before Barristan was to meet Tywin again, for the first time since the Sack of King's Landing. He did not look forward to it.

The lord of Casterly Rock was dressed in majestic golden armour, his helm shaped as a lion. His sword lay in its guard, and by him were two guards and a lesser Lord of the Westerlands, likely a near vassal. Barristan didn't remember all of the Westerlands lords, just those most important to Tywin. Compared to the Lion of Lannister, he seemed very meagre in comparison. Tywin looked more of a king than Robert or Aerys had.

"Your grace." Tywin plainly said as he removed his helm, passing it to his squire. "I trust my daughter is safe in the Red Keep, alongside my grandson?" _It hadn't been safe for princess Elia and her children, _Barristan thought, though he remained silent.

King Robert straightened up. "Indeed, Lord Tywin, she stands safely with Joffrey and the small council in the capital. For now, we should plan the rest of our defensive. What's the situation in the west coast?"

Tywin unloaded a scroll. "Skirmishes in the Sunset Sea aside, Fair Isle faces constant threat, as there have been many attacks, and I imagine that by now, the island may already have fallen. In contrast, we know the invaders faced a defeat off the coast of Saltcliffe. We have managed to capture one of their commanders. The invasion however is continuing as the other generals are continuing to raid the isles. It is said they have great warhorses they plan to unleash on the mainland. We haven't heard much from the Tyrell's besides the Arbor being sacked and the Shield Isles being assaulted. It would appear they are preparing to assault Oldtown, and then march up the river Mander to Highgarden, though we await better ravens." Barristan noticed Jaime was somewhat relieved that the Westerlands were better off, but he knew little of what the father and son's thoughts were for one another.

The news on the Reach wasn't good at all. He had known many fine men and their families from that region over the years, and they were all at risk from people who supposedly sacrificed people by pulling out their hearts!

"Hmm." The king spoke. "It is worse than I thought. You'd think those damned Tyrell's would have thrown them into the sea by now, but attacking the Arbor was a good move. Good wine, good farmland and the Reach's finest fleet all in one go. It doesn't surprise me they'd attack there first." He overlooked the horizon. "It seems the Reach is where we'll be fighting at this rate. We need a good battle plan before we march. And Ned and Jon. They always know how to help."

"Of course, your grace." Lord Tywin nodded and bowed. "May I have a word with my son?" The king looked to Ser Jaime and gave him approval. The Lion and his eldest cub went off.

"It shan't be long, your grace, until the other armies arrive," ser Oakheart stated, gripping his sword.

"I bloody hope so." The king bellowed and laughed. "I hope the local lords can offer some better hospitality than this! And some nice whores! I'm their king!" Barristan sighed to himself. Rhaegar wouldn't have debased himself to such a level if he was king. Then again, both men fell for a northern woman and it tore the realm apart. Barristan knew that if he did not advise the king well, these invaders would tear them apart. Now came the long waiting before Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark arrived.

It was five days since Tywin's host arrived, and now the Starks, the Vale and some of the Tullys had finally arrived, along with bannermen from Harrenhal. In total, some thirty thousand men or more were here by Barristan's reckoning in front of him. The Hand, Lord Jon Arryn, and Warden of the North, Eddard Stark were no doubt near the front, ready to great their king.

The king spoke again. "I've been itching for a battle ever since I took the throne. I just wasn't expecting it to come from this direction. I don't think anyone did."

"You are certainly right, your grace." Barristan replied. "The northern armies are almost here, and together we can head to repel the savages at our door." Barristan didn't know these men at all in truth, calling them savages was uncharitable to say the least. He knew from his years of fighting on different lands that many other cultures had their own versions of honour rather than none. Though the tearing out the hearts of enemies was definitely not something he'd think of anything besides the jungles of Sothoryos.

"Indeed." Robert smiles. "There they are!" He looked toward the armies and their figureheads.

Jon and Eddard marched ahead toward the king on their stallions- Ned rode a horse as white as snow, and Jon a silver beast, like his own silver hair. Both unhorsed and came to meet their king, and bowed in unison.

"Get back up! Your king demands it!" Robert shouted. They did as ordered.

"Come ere!" The king bellowed as he caught Lord Stark in a bone crushing hug that Lord Stark hardly seemed suited for. After exchanging pleasantries, he went to Jon Arryn and gave him a solid handshake. "Welcome, friends, I think I need you more than ever right now."

Ser Barristan as lord commander was allowed to stay in the tent while they planned the course of battle. As a senior commander and well regarded among Westeros' armies as a great warrior, he knew his counsel would be held in high regard.

The Hand, Lord Arryn started. "Robert, I received word that your brother has set off from Dragonstone with the royal fleet. They should be at least past Storm's End by now, if not Sunspear." Between them was a table showing a large and detailed map of Westeros. Not as large as that of Dragonstone or the Red Keep, but still of an impressive size, and one that would be useful to assess the situation. Aerys had a similar one in the capital, not that he ever used it in the Rebellion. "It should be days or two weeks before they reach the Arbor to liberate the area."

"Hmm." Robert was not too fond of Stannis, Barristan knew, but he knew him a valuable ally in this conflict. "And Renly and Penrose are too young to contribute as of now. Very well, it seems the west coast and Crownlands shall contribute the bulk of soldiers for this war."

Jon notes. "Not necessarily, your grace. You see my knights of the Vale, and Ned's northern wolves too. I'm sure Lord Penrose and even prince Doran may send reinforcements should things not go as well as planned."

"One is their leaders tried to contact me." Eddard spike out. "He wrote a letter to me." The warden of the North took one out and passed it first to Ser Barristan, then the king. It indeed read in a poor rendition of the common tongue that the man was descended from Brandon the Shipwright, a millennium ago.

"Gods, Ned." The king noted. "They can't have crossed thousands of miles of ocean for bloody revenge for something your ancestor did a thousand years ago, surely? There must be something deeper and more immediate than this. It's clearly just an excuse at this point!" Robert shook his head. "My guess is this is to distract them from a loss they experienced elsewhere. Or perhaps they're desperate. Whatever it is though, we need to drive them back into the sea."

"Of course, your grace." Lord Stark responded. "The North is at your command." He turned to the table. "When will we march west? We can take our men through the Gold Road toward Lanni-"

The king cut him off. "No, Ned, I want you by my side when we go against them. Jon will join Tywin in repelling the northern attack, as will Hoster. We will aid those bloody Tyrell's, Paxter and Stannis will reinforce us by sea. I can't believe I have to work alongside the man who beat me at Ashford-" the king of course referred to Lord Randall Tarly. "But war makes for strange bedfellows, as they say in the Citadel."

Barristan stepped up. "Your grace, speaking of the Citadel, is there any word as to their status in all of this. Without the ravens being trained, communications across the seven kingdoms will be hampered beyond belief, and I'm not sure that is a risk we can afford to take now."

"Don't worry, Ser Barristan." The Hand replied. "The ravens from Grand Maester Pycelle say the citadel has already evacuated and is heading up to Highgarden as we speak. It seems we must not waste anymore time here. We'll start marching tomorrow." The king nodded, and lord Stark bowed.

Barristan was a veteran of many conflicts, and had seen many battles and generals succeed and fail. Even though he didn't know this opponent, and the kings he once served were on the other side of the Narrow Sea, he hoped that he could at least die for a noble cause in protecting the people of Westeros from an invader unlike any other.


End file.
